Eternal
by Ultimolu
Summary: Alternate Universe: Darkness returns, with a vengeance. For Claire Redfield, being the prisoner of the king of vampires was enough to destroy her normal life, not to mention the occult, and several dead women along the way.
1. Prologue

**Italics**: Thoughts

* * *

**Prologue**

* * *

"_They found the guy naked and covered in a bloody white sheet. Looked like he went through a fucking slaughterhouse. I've never heard or seen anything like that."_

"_They're calling him John Doe, right?"_

"_Yeah, he was unconscious when they brought him in. __They__ didn't __find a wallet on him.__ I've seen some shit in this hospital, but this is beyond fucked up. I don't even know how he's even alive. Guy looks like the walking dead with that pale skin. He didn't even seem like he had a heartbeat when we checked him."_

"_Maybe when he wakes up, he'll remember his name or whatever."_

"_That's if he does. Hell, he might die in the middle of the night. He's a walking corpse."_

_"What makes you say that? "_

_"Like you said, he doesn't have a heartbeat. It ust makes this shit creepier. Even worse, it wasn't easy for the guys to get him in here."_

_"…You're right… it does."_

"_Heard the nurses up on the fourth floor nearly passed out."_

"_From the blood or that he was fucking naked?"_

"_Probably both, man. The guy's pretty attractive...like from a playboy magazine."_

"_Yeah, he's attractive alright. The guy even had blood around his fucking mouth. That's just as fucked up as the blood on him. And get this— it wasn't even his blood."_

"_Are you serious?"_

"_I fucking swear on my dead ma. Between these women getting murdered and this shit, something weird is going on around here."_

_"No kidding. The mayor's freaking out over the murders along with everybody else. Hell, he's probably freaking out over John Doe right now."_

* * *

**.**

**Evergreen Hospital**

**.**

* * *

The elevator reached its destination.

She shouldn't be up here.

Her shift was over, and yet she found herself drawn to the _John Doe_ that was brought in minutes ago. Between the conversation she heard from the paramedics and the rumors circulating around the rest of the hospital, he was an enigma. The police were still investigating; however, they couldn't determine whether he was a victim or a suspect. For the time being, they had police stationed for the night in case he regained consciousness.

It was midnight, when the ambulance reached _Evergreen Hospital_. Downtown Illinois was known for strange crimes, but lately there had been a string of murders involving women. They were naked, with their throats slit, drained of blood.

She heard the news every night she came home from work.

She only knew what was reported; not even her brother could give her details beyond speculating reporters. He was the chief of police at the _Illinois Police Department_, burdened with the stressful task of keeping the media from spreading pandemonium throughout the city.

From rumors of the occult and satanic worshipers, there were theories as to why the women were murdered. For each victim, they were dumped in secluded locations until their bodies decayed. The police identified each one, but the painstaking task of contacting the families was too much for some of the officers on the force.

They resigned soon after.

She remembered the first case.

The woman was in her early thirties and was planning to go through medical school. She was waiting tables to make ends meet. One day, she was taking the bus home after another late-night shift. The next day, she was missing. Within weeks, the cases began to pile up until it was determined that at least two hundred women were murdered over the span of four months.

The cases alone forced her to carry a pocketknife and pepper spray during a late-night shift. The women in the hospital even started a carpool so everyone reached their home safely.

Even then, she didn't think it was enough.

"_Let me know when you're working late so I can pick you up." _Her brother warned.

He never kept his promise.

He was too preoccupied with the media and the case to take her home.

Instead, she joined the carpool or called her friends Jill and Rebecca to pick her up. Tonight, however she decided to call Jill to pick her up. She was supposed to be waiting downstairs but decided that peeking at the man wouldn't hurt. Two police officers were stationed at the room for the night, in case the _John Doe_ woke up. Even then, she didn't think they would be stationary for the entire shift without getting coffee or a bathroom break.

Drawing a deep breath, she emerged from the elevator.

Placing him on the last floor was a priority because of his condition and the police wanted to question him.

Darkness enveloped the hallway, apart from the usual nightlights. Each floor was composed of aqua-white paint and mahogany doors that led to the rooms. The corridors were huge; a far cry from the small hospital she used to work in before getting her break here.

_John __Doe_ was in room four thirty-seven, hooked to various machines. Doctors tending to him were convinced there was a medical condition that explained the near, non-existent heartbeat.

_How__ could someone be alive without a normal heartbeat__…?_

It was something she couldn't answer.

After two turns down the long corridors and through the double doors, she leaned against the wall before making the turn where the room was located.

She peeked out around the corner.

The officers weren't in the hallway.

_That's…strange. _

Following the room numbers wasn't difficult. The last two corridors contained numbers that were in the tens and twenties. The one she was about to enter was in the thirties.

She didn't know the nurses that worked up here and avoided the guest desk by going to the elevator that placed her in the middle of the hallway.

The silence and darkened sections of the hallway was unnerving. There were a few patients in the rooms she passed by, but they were in sleep induced comas, due to severe injuries or illness.

It wasn't the first time she was on the fourth floor.

Her fingers were trembling, but she didn't know why. Gritting her teeth, she willed herself to calm down.

_Stop with the paranoia. You've worked late night shifts before. Everything is fine. You're just going to look inside and see what the big fuss is about with this guy—_

She never finished her thought.

A body flew across the hallway and slammed into the wall, coming from an opened doorway. Blood splattered against the surface, leaving a trail of gore. It took everything in her not to scream, let alone react to the unnatural scene before her.

She recognized the body as an officer, with the standard dark blue _IPD_ police uniform with black pants and polished shoes. He was a portly man, with thinning dark hair.

Her heart thundered against her chest.

_What…what was that…? _

A tall figure emerged from the room; fingers wrapped around the throat of another officer, but he was lankier, around the same height as the first officer that was killed. It didn't take her long to realize that it was the room _John Doe_ was in. She remembered the description from the paramedic's conversation—shoulder length brown hair and pale skin.

Dried blood was caked around his torso and mouth. A clean white sheet was wrapped around his waist.

The officer was dangling inches from the white marble floor, prying at the fingers that held him. He was begging for his life in choked gasps of air, but the figure spoke in a language she didn't recognize; a deep, guttural tone that filled her with dread.

Within seconds, the officer was dead, his neck twisted until she heard the bones snap.

His body was tossed aside, just like his partner.

Staying here was suicide.

Two officers were dead, and she would be the next victim if she didn't escape.

She tried pulling away, but the figure turned in her direction, as if he knew someone else was in the hallway.

Crimson, serpentine eyes bore into her frightened ones.

Deliberate steps were made, stalking towards her.

Her legs were rubber; useless to the point she felt like she was in a trance.

_Move…goddamnit, move…! _

She thought of the all the horror films she watched growing up, along with Chris, refusing to believe the reality of the situation before her.

_She didn't see two officers die in unexplained ways. _

_She didn't see a man…no a monster approaching her, covered in blood and wearing a hospital sheet around his waist. _

Somehow, disbelief gave way to strength. Tearing away from the wall, she ran, but it was already too late.

In seconds, she faced the monster.

Calloused fingers wrapped around strands of auburn hair. He stared down at her with as much coldness at the officers he mercilessly slaughtered.

"I didn't…see anything…!" Panic settled in once more, forcing her to kick his leg on reaction, but her sudden instincts did nothing to deter him. He was solid muscle, impervious to her desperate attempt to escape.

The grip only tightened, causing her to cry out. The figure leaned forward, towards her neck, as if he was sniffing her.

_Why is he…doing that…?_

The cellphone in her gray messenger bag rang.

It was a minor distraction, peaking his interest.

"It's…my cellphone…" She stammered. "…can I just answer it and—"

"Cell…phone…" He repeated, as if the words were foreign to him. The words were soon followed by a growl, as again he spoke in the language he used against the deceased officers.

It sounded like a demand, but she didn't know for sure.

"I…"

The phone ended on the fourth ring, going to voicemail.

"_Claire…where the hell are you…? I'm in the lobby and you didn't say you were staying late. Look, just get down here, wherever you are. I don't wanna be out here in the middle of the night. You know about that ongoing case your brother's working on."_

What exactly was she supposed to tell Jill, if he allowed her to answer the phone?

That she was trapped on the last floor with an inhuman psychopath and two dead officers and she was his next victim?

_It was a mistake coming here. _

_She was going to die. _

"…please…don't hurt me— " She pleaded; her desperation mounting. She tried avoiding the terrifying gaze, but couldn't look away.

The monster cocked his head, impervious to her words.

"...Another pathetic human, begging for their worthless life." The tone was devoid of emotion, but she was able to understand him.

_The monster spoke English...? _

He didn't allow her to respond.

"As much as it would satisfy me to end your existence, you have some use for the time being."

"…I thought you didn't understand me— " She began, but she never got the words out.

"Silence." The monster hissed, pinning her against the wall.

Another wave of panic overtook her. "Please..."

"I said silence."

She knew better than to speak again.

The monster leaned close to her left ear. "...You will tell me everything I want to know. And if you give me an undesired answer, I will end you far quicker than I intend to do. Now sleep."

Her vision blurred, and with it darkness came.

* * *

**Author Notes**

* * *

So...this story is based on a dream that wouldn't leave my mind. I definitely blame the combination of _Castlevania_ and _Resident Evil_ videos for this. I will also now hide under my bed, as writing this has given me the willies. Updates for my other stories are coming so stay tuned!


	2. Chapter One

**Italics: **Thoughts

* * *

**Chapter One**

* * *

**.**

**Illinois Police Department**

Springfield, Illinois

**.**

* * *

He didn't know what to make of this.

_Claire missing._

_John Doe missing._

_Two officers dead._

One looked like he'd been through the meat grinder while the other's head was twisted around like a bobble toy. It took everything in him not to remain calm but to no avail. His temper forced officers to back off, keeping their small talk and jokes to themselves.

He had the displeasure of informing family of the victims of their demise. He couldn't remember the time he had any type of sleep. The cries of family members still haunted him. One woman was planning a career in medical school. The other wanted to dedicate her life to a charitable cause. The last victim wanted to pursue law school. His own men had hopes of taking his place when he was frail and retired.

The murders was nothing more than senseless violence, one of which he refused to tolerate in his city.

Night nurses on the fourth floor were questioned, as well as various staff members. No one recalled seeing Claire; not even her coworkers on the second floor. There was some talks of the nurses being _'interested'_ in the missing a John Doe, but he couldn't imagine his sister going crazy over a man covered in blood.

Still, he couldn't rule that out the possibility that curiosity got the better of her.

He had men working around the clock to find her.

So far, there were no leads.

_Not even a goddamn breadcrumb. How does a half dead corpse disappear with his sister…?_

From what he learned, the paramedics that brought _John Doe_ in, the man barely had a pulse. He wasn't a medical guru, but it was impossible for a human to be alive with a faint heartbeat unless there was a medical condition involved.

And with the media breathing down his neck for information, he was beginning to loathe every minute of being the _Illinois Chief of Police._

Thunder rumbled, as he stood at the window of his office. The forecast never predicted rain, let alone storm clouds. It was raining nonstop ever since he arrived at the hospital, only to find himself back to square one—in the vicinity of his office.

Everything led to a dead end.

Not even the coffee he swallowed minutes ago satiated the rage coursing through him.

He told himself that it wasn't Jill's fault; that it wasn't anyone's fault.

_It didn't change a damn thing._

"We can't find anything on this John Doe…" The voice of Piers Nivan interrupted his thoughts. The man was probably the best detective he had on the force. Piers was the one he could depend on the most in solving murders and bringing the guilty to justice. This case however, was beyond anything the force encountered.

"…we checked everything — phone records, registries, major car dealerships, the works. Makes you wonder if he had anything to do with those murders—"

"I don't want to think about it..." Hands tightened to fists, but his gaze never left the elaborate city structures and civilians below with umbrellas over their heads. He must have counted sixty black umbrellas during the past hour. "…I just don't."

"…right." At the corner of his eye, Piers ran a nervous hand through his hair. "Listen chief, we'll find her. Whatever's going on, we'll get to the bottom of it, one way or another."

He drew a deep breath. "…I know."

Silence lingered between them, until Piers spoke again, lowering his hand. "…It's two o'clock in the afternoon. The guys and I are planning to order Chinese food. I just came in to see if you wanted anything before we put it through. If that's okay with you...sir."

It was an innocent request, but he wasn't sure if he was hungry. Nausea threatened to ruin whatever appetite he may have had.

Still, he couldn't stay hungry for the rest of the afternoon.

The only thing he had in the morning was coffee.

_Goddamn coffee._

Lightning crackled soon after, illuminating the office.

"Yeah…just order a small noodle soup and a egg roll for me." He muttered.

"Okay…I'll let Mitch know."

He didn't hear Piers leave the room or the door closing behind him with a soft click.

He only remembered his words.

"_We'll find her."_

* * *

_Where…what…_

_Her thought was cut short by a petrified scream that rang through her ears. Blurred vision gave way to the rustic wooden floor she was lying on. An outline of a dark figure and what appeared to be a woman was inches away. His fingers wrapped around strands of hair, as he descended to her neck. She fought, clawing at his fingers until her struggles weakened._

_She lost consciousness; giving way to silence._

* * *

**. . . . .**

* * *

_Where…am…I…?_

She awakened to a blurred image once more. This time, she was lying on a bed in a room she didn't recognize.

A pounding migraine threatened to rip her skull in half.

Memories resurfaced, sending a wave of panic through her. It only grew the minute she forced her head off the pillow. Her eyes cleared, adjusting to the figure in front of the bed. Clothes were strewn across the floor, coming from a large, wooden closet. Water dropped from the slicked, shoulder length brown hair and a pale muscular back.

It didn't take her long to piece everything together.

_She was kidnapped._

_John Doe murdered two officers and now she was at his mercy._

_He was a monster._

_Monsters didn't exist, yet she unable to tear her gaze away from crimson, serpentine eyes._

_Maybe he didn't know she was awake._

_If she took a chance to escape, he wouldn't—_

"And where do you intend to go?" A cold, rasped voice questioned. The scream lodged in her throat never came. She was frozen, unable to move.

_Did he read her thoughts?i_

_How did he know she was awake?_

_That was impossible—_

"You amuse me." A soft laugh accompanied the tone, sending a chill through her. "If you attempt to run, I will find you. For your sake, it would serve no purpose to anger me."

_She believed him._

He could easily kill her like the officers stationed at his room. She wouldn't have been surprised if he was responsible for the other murders.

But she couldn't allow herself to be his prisoner.

Chris taught her survival instincts ever since the gruesome murders started. Remaining calm would give her a chance to formulate a plan.

_If she did have a plan._

"…What do you want from me…" She forced the words out.

The figure turned. He was no longer covered in blood or the sheet around his waist. He was naked, causing heat to pool around her cheeks. She couldn't help but notice how attractive he was, despite his inhuman nature.

"You are the key to my knowledge of this new timeline. I am not at my full strength, but make no mistake that I can easily rip you to shreds. Whatever…_'plan'_ you intend to formulate will be useless. I care little for this brother you keep referring to and if he gets in my way, he will perish as well."

"There are people looking for me…" She said, doing her best to ignore the threat. "…he isn't the only one—"

Within seconds, she was pinned against the wall; the monster's arms blocking either path. Nothing compared to how fast he moved from the closet to the bed. Again, her consternation grew, as he stared down at her.

"…then let them." He sneered. The monster reeked of aftershave and what she could only describe as stale blood. It didn't take her long to realize that he was the one who killed the woman before she blacked out on the floor. "They can always die for their incompetence."

They were in someone's home and he murdered them.

_Oh God..._

She swallowed. "Whatever you do to me...they'll know—"

"What makes you think that I care? It seems as if you constantly misjudge the position you are in. I assure you that I will continue to remind you until you are driven insane…"

"And if I'm…driven insane, then how will you get answers you need...?" She managed to stutter. "...it seems like you need me..."

His right hand rose, causing her to flinch but calloused fingers only caressed her chin. "I am very impressed with your attempts of bravery. But even now, that won't save you. I can pry that information out of you through your manic episodes. You underestimate me, but I can forgive that. After all, you humans have forgotten about me a long time ago."

_Forgotten…?_

_Who...what is he…?_

"What…are you?" She whispered.

The monster grinned widely, revealing what she only saw in movies and read in fictional novels.

"Vam…"

The word never left her lips.

* * *

**Author Notes**

* * *

So um...I had fun with this chapter. It scared the crap out of me, but Halloween is coming and its meant to be scary anyway.

Sorry for my slow updates - you know how crazy real life can get. Thank you so much for the reviews so far, I really appreciate them.


	3. Chapter Two

**Italics**: Thoughts

* * *

**Chapter Two**

* * *

Fools.

All of them were fools.

_Useless vermin._

They allowed the master to escape into unknown territory.

Of course she knew the risks of resurrecting their master, but for him to slaughter the members of their cult and vanish was unacceptable. For every piece of unfortunate news she received, she added more bodies to the slaughtered. She sacrificed, prepared, and timed everything to see him walk the earth again.

Now, it seemed as if her efforts were in vain.

And now, to receive news of two dead officers and a missing woman fueled her rage. The _IPD_ were already meddling too far in their affairs, and she had plans to eliminate the chief of police before he could trace the murders to their organization.

She didn't listen to the pleads of mercy from her spy at the _Evergreen Hospital _before he was another corpse.

The rest knew better than to add to her disappointment.

"…Perhaps you should take it easy on our little slaves." A smooth, baritone voice interrupted her thoughts, coming from the other side of the limousine she was sitting in.

She had just attended the funeral of one of the women that was murdered, under the guise of her _'employer'_. It was pathetic, watching the woman's family cry and give testimony of her charitable work, hobbies and her good nature. Then, she was forced to give a speech of her own, providing artificial smiles to those she had spoken to, assuring the family that _Corporation S_ would be there for them should they need help.

It was comical sight, however she quelled the laugh that threatened to leave her lips.

They knew nothing of the greatness their family member brought to the modern world.

The master wasn't at full strength, but that would change.

It was only a matter of time.

Time of which she had plenty of.

She wore her black dress suit for the occasion; shoulder length hair tucked behind her ears. Her reading glasses were gone; only used when she was at a meeting or this worthless funeral.

"They continue to fail us." She watched, as the glass of crimson wine twitched from the soft bumps of the limousine as it headed back to the company building. "Finding him is a priority. The master knows nothing about this world and the police are meddling to the point the murders may lead back to us."

"You worry too much. What makes you think they're smart enough to connect the dots?"

She looked up, glaring in the direction of the voice, however the dark suited figure was unconcerned. "The _IPD_ will be taken care of. A scapegoat will be more than enough to throw them off, don't you agree?"

She loathed the way Alex brushed the situation aside, as if it was a minor inconvenience.

_How long have they waited to resurrect their master?_

They not only had to worry about the police, they also had the threat of the family sworn to protect humanity to contend with—if their lineage still continued. Alex was a powerful warlock, but even he wasn't a match for the family with enough knowledge to end their plans.

"This isn't a simple inconvenience to brush off. I want the master found. We should have been able to contain him—"

"Like I said, you worry too much." The voice repeated with a tone that unnerved her. As much as she was annoyed with the current situation, crossing Alex wasn't the best course of action.

"Unless the family lineage poses a threat, the police are easily taken care of. Paying a visit to the chief of police will take care our problem. The master will be found, brought up to speed and take his rightful place in this world. Nothing will interfere with that."

She watched the smirk form on his face.

"Besides, you have a company to run. Leave everything else to me."

* * *

**. . . . . **

* * *

The hammering against her chest grew louder.

_Vampires didn't exist._

_She was in the middle of a horrific dream._

_Wake up -_

_It's not real -_

"It's interesting to see your mind fighting the truth." She watched as his fingers moved to her neck. "How did you think I murdered those humans? How did you think I knew about your plan to escape…_no_, your _attempt_ to escape, let alone understand your language despite the centuries I've been asleep so quickly?"

"I…I won't let you have your way with me…" Her threat was idle, but it was the only way to stand her ground. "…whatever you are, you can't just think I'll bend to your will—"

"And how do you intend to stop me?" The fingers left her neck and traveled, until they toyed with the soft blue fabric of her short sleeved scrub shirt. "You are, after all a frightened little girl."

"I'm...not a little girl—"

"I smell the fear radiating from you even now."

"I'm not afraid of you..."

Her mind wracked with how vampires were killed in movies.

_Stake?_

_Holy water?_

_Fire?_

_A cross—_

He lowered his head and whispered in her ear. "…You will have to do a lot better than that."

He was too close for comfort, but she couldn't turn away. His gaze locked her in place, filled with amusement. Every lingering thought was countered at each turn. Not only was he a psychopath, he was a mindreader.

_But that's what vampires did...right?_

He chuckled and pulled away, releasing her from his hypnotic gaze. "I think I will enjoy having fun with you."

She didn't move from the wall, even after he turned away from her to resume sifting through the closet. What the hell could she do at this point? She was up against something that couldn't possibly be real and yet it was.

She never believed in the supernatural.

For her, it was bullshit for the masses to eat up during Halloween. She always thought everything had a reasonable scientific explanation. But there was no explanation for a police officer slamming against the wall until brains splattered against the surface, let alone another one, whose neck was snapped until his head faced his back.

There was also no explanation for unnatural, crimson serpentine eyes that reminded her of a snake.

_Manipulative, calculating..._

She was vulnerable.

For a normal kidnapping, she would have done everything possible to escape.

_But this wasn't normal._

_None of it was normal._

_A naked monster in the middle of a bedroom wasn't normal._

Her bag was missing.

Her phone was probably filled with frantic messages from Jill, Rebecca and Chris. There may have been even some from coworkers or her supervisor. If anything, she might have dropped it in the hospital.

Even if there was a way to contact them, they wouldn't know her location. Kidnappers moved around with their victims to avoid detection and she doubted the monster was any different.

She either played by his rules or suffer the consequences.

She watched, as he pulled a black muscle shirt and slacks of equal color from the closet. He stared at the outfit with some degree of fascination— at least she thought it was fascination.

"Human."

She flinched at the sound of his voice, but didn't move away from the wall.

"Is this attire suitable for this century?"

A lump formed at the pit of her throat. "My name…is…Claire—"

"I know your name, but I prefer _human_ until I say otherwise. Now what of the attire?"

She didn't argue with him. "…Its fine."

The clothes filled him as he put them on; the muscle shirt outlining the toned, muscled abs. It disgusted her to see him in someone's clothes, belonging to a woman's husband or boyfriend. She didn't know how many he killed in the house.

_Did their neighbors know?_

_Would the police arrive soon?_

"You…killed them..." She said. "…the woman. Why…? She…didn't do anything wrong…"

"She was an inconvenience." Once more, the inhuman gaze was focused on her. "An inconvenience I chose to get rid of. I care nothing about her death, let alone your pathetic sympathy for her."

"Someone will…know something happened here—"

"You seem to think I care about worthless humans knowing about my actions against their kind." The hatred in his tone served as a warning.

She unknowingly ignored it. "You can't just go around killing…innocent people—"

It was her first mistake to challenge him.

She never saw him move, just as before. This time, fingers coiled around her throat, lifting her inches off the wooden floor. She gasped, her cry nothing more than a whimper.

His fingers were frigid like ice, threatening to leave a bruise if she didn't escape.

"Who are you to call them innocent?" Rage intertwined with each syllable as he spoke. "Your kind took everything from me. Tread carefully human, because the next time you say something as inconceivable as your last prattle, I won't hesitate to kill you. "

He dropped her to the floor.

She gagged, until bile rose from her throat. She doubled over, emptying the contents in her stomach.

The monster stooped down, impervious to her plight.

"Humans mean nothing to me. You mean nothing to me. You only live because I allowed you to exist."

It was the last words she heard before she lost consciousness once more.

* * *

**Author Notes**

* * *

So um…Happy Halloween!

It's raining here and it's dark so finishing this chapter made it scarier. I'm still working on my other two stories so they should be updated soon.


	4. Chapter Three

**Italics: **Thoughts

* * *

**Chapter Three**

* * *

**.**

**Illinois Police Department**

**.**

* * *

"_Chief Redfield, do you think your sister's disappearance is connected to the murders?"_

"_What do we know about John Doe? "_

"_Do you think he's connected to the murders?"_

_"Why can't the IPD find more about this John Doe?"_

_"Is he a ghost?"_

_"How many more women will be in danger?"_

Cameras flashed in his eyes, coming from casually dressed news crews working with their respective stations. Men and women in suits and skirts had their microphones, notebooks, and recorders in hand, ready to jot down latest developments in the case.

Behind him was the blue and black large insignia logo of the _IPD_, a dark background with the American flag and bald eagle in tow.

To the citizens, it symbolized protection at first until the murders began.

Now, everyone was running scared.

He couldn't blame them.

It took everything in him not to not throw the wooden podium he was standing behind into the crowd of reporters. The briefings were necessary to keep the peace, however he wanted nothing more than to search for Claire on his own. It wasn't like he didn't trust his men with a possible breakthrough; he just felt he should be doing more.

_He should have taken her home last night. _

_He should have protected her. _

Despite Piers reassuring him that there was nothing he could have done to change the situation; he couldn't accept it.

_He couldn't accept that a nameless kidnapper took his sister._

No demands were made for cash, let alone five minutes of fame. Today was nothing more than radio silence, as if _John Doe_ and Claire vanished into thin air.

It didn't feel right.

Nothing felt right.

Swallowing the lump at the pit of his throat, he did his best to answer their questions.

"So far…we have no information regarding this _John Doe_." He said. "We also don't know if he's related to the string of murders in this city. We do know however...that he's responsible for killing two of Illinois' finest. As for my sister, I will do everything to make sure she's found, safe and sound. The same goes for every civilian out there. I won't allow any more deaths to plague our streets. We will get to the bottom of this, one way or another."

"But this isn't reassuring Chief Redfield..." One reporter sneered, coming from the back. It was a tone that was very familiar to him.

_What the hell is that bastard doing here again…? _

It didn't take him long to realize that it was the snot nosed reporter he threatened to punch in the face when the murders first started happening two weeks ago. The man wore horn rimmed glasses with dark suits and bright colored ties. This time, he wore a baby blue color which did nothing to change his disposition.

He worked for the _Illinois Watcher, _doing anything and everything to get a story, even if it meant harassing a witness. It didn't matter how many complaints were brought against the newspaper; they always found ways around it. A family threatened to sue and yet they found a way to sweet talk their way out of a lawsuit.

Even his threats to barring them from the conference hinges on freed of expression, according to Mayor Hicken.

_To hell with freedom of expression. _

_There was no reason why they should be allowed to ask idiotic questions in his conference room. The man's face alone was antagonizing._

_It was pissing him off._

"You try reassuring the public that another murder won't happen under the _IPD_. In fact, the _IPD_ can't even find their _John Doe_ and a young, innocent woman that happens to be your sister— "

"My sister will be found, along with _John Doe_." His teeth grounded together, remembering the advice Claire gave him when facing the public.

"_Take a deep breath and pretend you're on a beach."_ She told him one night when he came home, frustrated and a second glass away from slamming it against the wall. _"Pretend that you're flying a big, white kite in the sand. That should help."_

He took her advice.

It worked, until today.

"We will use whatever resources are available to make sure whoever is responsible is brought to justice. I hope that answers your questions and concerns, Mr. Donovan— "

"As a matter of fact, it doesn't..." The pretentious bastard had the nerve to continue, despite the response given. "…the public is running scared. Young women can't even leave their homes without the threat of having their throats slashed in what can only be described as satanic rituals. With all due respect Chief Redfield, your word isn't good enough— "

"We've stepped up police activity around the city." He didn't notice Piers stepping up to the podium, after standing behind him with four other top detectives. "We understand the fear around the city, but to assume we're not doing anything regarding the situation is ridiculous."

"The question wasn't if you were doing anything, Detective Nivans…" Donovan rambled on. "It's whether you're doing enough to protect this city—"

"Listen you son of a… "Piers began, taking a step forward but he placed a hand on Pier's chest, stopping him.

"Your concerns are noted, Mr. Donovan as well as the public. Like my top detective said, we're doing everything we can to handle the situation and bring those responsible to justice. I can't stress that enough."

He turned away, ignoring the sudden influx of questions from the other reporters. Most of it was rehashes of things he heard several times already.

Until they found _John Doe_ and his sister, they were fighting a losing battle with the public.

And time wasn't on their side.

* * *

**_. . . . ._**

* * *

_A woman was burning._

_She was pinned to a large wooden makeshift cross, surrounded by people in attire that had to be centuries old._

"_Burn the heretic!"_

_"Burn the wretched creature!"_

_"She caused this suffering! Burn her...burn all of them!"_

_A man in religious robes assured the people that they were safe; that the witch would no longer harm the children of God. He was a bishop, a blood red cap adorning his head. He was either in his sixties or seventies—she couldn't tell._

_"She will no longer harm us. The church will protect you!"_

_She never heard the woman's name._

* * *

**. . . . .**

* * *

She gasped, lurching from the pillow her head was lying on.

_What…was that…?_

_Why did she dream of a woman burning at a cross?_

_She didn't even know what year that was, let alone the century._

Memories soon came flooding back to her.

_She was kidnapped and __knew what her kidnapper was._

_She was at the mercy of a very dangerous vampire._

And she angered him to the point she could have been another one of his victims.

She soon realized that she was no longer in the house where he killed the woman and held her captive. She was lying on silk, crimson sheets, belonging to a queen-sized bed. Realization dawned on her that she was in a private hotel, but she wasn't sure which one. A few of them were scattered throughout the city, expensive, and ran by local rich families with money to burn.

She didn't want to know how the monster was able to relocate them so quickly, let alone a place she couldn't even afford on her salary, unless Chris gave her a free allowance to spend.

_Maybe it was the wrong question to ask..._

_With the amount of power he held, he could do anything._

The curtains were crimson silk as well, meshing with the black dresser, closet, and nightstands on either side of the bed.

"You are awake, I see."

A voice came from the middle window of the expansive room, coming from the familiar figure she knew well enough. He wore the same clothes he stole from the closet of the house they were in previously.

"I grow tired of carrying you, human. I knew you were fragile, but not to this extent. It appears a lot has changed—"

She didn't give him a chance to finish.

She ran towards the door.

It slammed shut through an invisible force, preventing her from leaving.

She pulled at the knob, screaming and banging at the wooden surface but to no avail.

"The humans at this establishment were generous to lend me one of their rooms. And to think you want to leave so quickly when we have just arrived. Is it because of our previous encounter? I warned you, and yet you refused to comply. Be grateful that you're still alive."

Her voice grew hoarse, racked with panicked sobs that threatened to overtake her. Her pounding grew weaker, until she was forced to give up. Whatever he did to the residents at the hotel, they couldn't save her.

She sensed him approaching her.

Backing away, she found herself scrambling blindly for another opened door. She rushed in, slamming it behind her. It was the bathroom from what she noticed, complete with a sink, toilet and a shower that was the same prevailing, dark color.

_What was this hotel's obsession with black and crimson?_

She was frantic, her eyes desperate for a way out, even a weapon to defend herself against the monster.

_A weapon…in the bathroom._

_What could she possibly use against him in the bathroom?_

_Broken glass...?_

"You seem to think closed doors will stop me from getting to you." His voice reverberated behind her.

Her panic grew but was unable to move. The monster's fingers snaked around strands of hair, drawing her close.

_How did he..._

She pried at his fingers, struggling to break free. "Let go of me...!"

His grip was like stone, impervious to her plight as before.

"We never were able to have that conversation, did we? Are you going to have your little fainting spells again? Because that would disappoint me greatly. Though, I am very curious about them."

"I said...let go of me…!" Her panic grew the minute her eyes wandered to the mirror by the sink.

Only her reflection was seen, as if she was being held by a ghost. She also saw visible bruises around her neck.

He was a vampire.

_Vampires didn't have reflections._

"Unfortunately for you human, you don't get to command your fate. Our conversations will be favorable if you end your hopeless crusade against me. "

"We have nothing…to…discuss…" She retorted, with as much bravado she could muster.

"Oh?" He murmured against the shell of her ear. "Do we need another repeat of what happened previously? Because that can be easily arranged…"

She didn't need his fingers around her neck again.

_She wasn't brave._

_She was terrified._

_Terrified of what else he could possibly do to her and what he could have done to the inhabitants in the hotel._

"I don't know anything…"

"I highly doubt that." His gingers brushed against her cheek.

She flinched. "Don't…touch me…"

"What do you intend to do about it? You speak, but it has no meaning to me."

"I…"

Her legs were gelatinous, seconds away from giving away.

"You remind me of someone I knew, long ago." Strangely, his tone was softer, much to her surprise. "She was defiant, with a fiery nature that amused and intrigued me at the same time. I fell in love and was planning to spend the rest of my immortal days with her until…"

His tone mutated, until it left a cold trail. "…you humans chose to take that away as well."

"That...has nothing to do with me..."

"But it does. You are just a burning reminder of the human filth in this world that needs eradicating."

The monster laughed.

"Make no mistake…just because you remind me of her, doesn't mean I will allow you the same privileges I gave her."

* * *

**Author** **Notes**

* * *

Well, we all know that last warning towards Claire will change eventually, in a creepy twisted way.

I didn't want to make this story a carbon paste of _Castlevania_, such as _Alucard_ existing and the _Belmont_ family. This is a twist because its a dark romance and there's no pixies and rainbows at the end. I already have an idea of how this is going to end.

Okey, back under the blankie I go.


	5. Chapter Four

**Italics**: Thoughts, Flashback

* * *

**Chapter Four**

* * *

"_How are you holding up?"_

"_I heard what happened…it's been all over the news…"_

"_How did you even come to work when this is going on?"_

"_If you need anything, let me know okay? I know this is hard for you…considering that she was your best friend and everything."_

She loathed the_ 'sympathy'_ at work.

Everyone asking how she was doing, asking if she needed something; it was the same crap every hour.

_How did they expect she was doing?_

Claire was gone.

She disappeared without a trace. Not even the police knew what to do, except give the same tired story.

_They will find her._

She lost faith in their words. They couldn't even find the psycho murdering innocent women.

Chris was looking for someone to blame.

Despite reassuring her it wasn't her fault, his tone said otherwise.

His eyes judged her whenever they spoke.

"_You couldn't save her…"_ He'd say, but she knew the truth.

_He blamed her._

Their relationship was estranged to the point she wondered if they were still engaged. He lived in the office from six o'clock in the morning until midnight or the next morning.

The case was pulling them apart.

She didn't know what to feel anymore.

They never discussed their wedding, but she knew why. It was inappropriate and she understood that. There was no rest for the mayor of a large city, struggling to keep the citizens from going insane after a series of unexplained murders.

Claire was either alive or the new victim of the demented freak the police had yet to arrest.

The news was a burning reminder of police cars surrounding the hospital when she arrived. Horrified staff walled off by yellow crime scene tape. Police in riot gear searching each floor for suspicious activity, only to come up empty handed. They only discovered the horror show minutes later. She knew about _ John Doe_ on the fourth floor and even he was gone. It was believed that he murdered the officers in the hallway.

She wanted to believe it was a nightmare.

_It wasn't._

The rain continued on, pelting the black _Sedan_ she drove as the windshields struggled to keep the glass clear.

Going home for the day early was the best thing but she didn't know what to do with the free time given to her.

Her boss wanted her to use the day for counseling. She scoffed at the idea of a seasoned district attorney needing a psychiatrist. She couldn't bring herself to see one, despite the current situation. Even the most hardened criminals rattled her as much as Claire's disappearance and several dead women.

Watching television didn't help.

She was warned to stay away from the investigation, and yet she found herself drawn to the police station.

There wasn't anything to watch, unless she wanted to hear about the same baffling stories that left reporters stumped.

_Dead women._

_Police chief's missing sister._

_Unusual weather._

Even now, she wasn't spared.

Soft, American pop was replaced with bits of information about the murders; the same regurgitated crap she heard all morning.

She heaved a sigh, muttering under her breath.

"Fuck off…"

* * *

**. . . . .**

* * *

Blood dribbled from the wrist of the woman standing by the monster seated across from her, filling the wine glass.

Nine staff members from the hotel stood on either side of the long dining table – four women and five men, the woman being the tenth. They weren't any different from staff in a typical hotel – men wore white shirts, dark ties and slacks, while the women wore black skirts and crimson shirts, reminiscent of the hotel decorum.

The same prevailing colors was in the dining hall as well, including a black marble floor. The only thing that wasn't black or crimson were the various utensils scattered around the table. Four, large windows accompanied the hall, accompanied by crimson curtains that were tied within gold trim.

It was still raining.

Three straight days of rain and darkened skies had the weather forecasters stumped. It was unusual weather, and Illinois wasn't the only state experiencing it.

As much as the aroma of steak, potatoes, and vegetables permeated from the plate in front of her, she didn't eat.

Her gaze was plastered on the woman, as she drained her blood.

Martha was another victim, and there was nothing she could do to save her, let alone the others in the trance-like state. She noticed that was the woman's name from the white name tag clipped on the left side of her chest._ Eric, Gina, Mark,_ _Carin, Angelia, Diana, Carlos, Ramon, _and _Brian_ belonged to the others.

The monster allowed her some privacy after their altercation, giving her an opportunity to shower. He didn't hesitate to inform her that he would know if she attempted to escape. The staff was under his control, having emptied the hotel of the guests based on his orders. Even the guests were brainwashed to believe the hotel was being renovated.

It didn't take her long to realize that it was evening, as soon as she left the bathroom and noticed the clock on the wall.

It was seven-thirty in the evening.

A small note was left on the dresser in perfect cursive writing, directing her to attire left on the bed. It was a white shirt with denim jeans; something of which was out of the ordinary in the hotel but she didn't question it.

She was directed downstairs to the dining hall by two men that were waiting by the door. She walked down a winding staircase, encased in black marble and gold.

She didn't want to know what he'd do to her if she denied his request.

"You seem rather fascinated by this woman." His voice reverberated in the hall, laced with amusement as before. "Do you see anything you enjoy?"

Forcing herself to pull away, she stared down at her plate. "…I wasn't…"

The glass was full.

Within seconds, the woman crumpled to the floor, ashen from the blood loss.

No one moved to help her.

"A human like you, afraid of a little blood? I highly doubt that, considering that your profession is medicine."

She didn't respond.

"You should eat." The monster encouraged. "We are, after all, guests at this little establishment."

"You…you kidnapped me. I'm not a guest." The words flew out of her mouth quicker than she intended. "And…I'm not hungry—"

"Then perhaps a private conversation is in order." The monster's gaze soon focused on one of the staff members standing nearest to the table. "Leave and take the others with you, including this corpse on the floor."

They did as he ordered. Within minutes, the corpse was taken out of the room, the staff members leaving one by one, until the large ashen doors were closed behind them.

"You willingly placed yourself in this situation, human." The monster crossed one leg over the other, reaching for the glass. "You were so eager to see me that you couldn't help your curiosity. An action you regret now, but it's already too late."

She forced herself to look at him. "How was I supposed to know I was going to be at the mercy of a vampire? Something that shouldn't exist—"

"Shouldn't exist?" The monster chuckled, placing the glass to his lips. He drank until a sliver of blood ran from the left corner of his lip, of which he licked away, much to her disgust. "I assure you that many things exist beyond your world of idiotic movies and television shows. To think a thousand years has passed already, that I would have been resurrected in the twenty-first century. So many technological advances, all of which can be used to my advantage. For you to compare me to a simple vampire is laughable."

His grin sent another chill through her. "But I'll leave it up to your imagination to figure out who I am."

"I don't want…to know who you are." She replied with as much bravado she could muster. "I don't want to be anywhere near you…"

"Is that why you willingly placed yourself in harm's way?" He was toying with her. "You were drawn to to investigate. Why do you humans assume things that are otherwise untrue?"

"I told you, I didn't know you were a monster." Her anger rose, causing his grin to fade. "If I knew, I wouldn't have—"

"Watch your tongue." His eyes were embers, glowing in the darkened room. "Otherwise it'll be ripped from your mouth."

"…But you need me...don't you...?" Every word was a stammered tremble, but she did everything she could to remain vigilant. "…ripping…my tongue out won't serve your…purpose—"

"Who said I need a talkative human to get what I want?" He sneered. "You've seen what I'm capable of doing. I learned about your identity the minute we met. Your name is Claire Redfield and you work at the establishment known as a hospital. Your parents died when you were young and your only known sibling is Chris Redfield. You pursued this little venture because you imagine a world where people wouldn't have to suffer like your parents did. Unfortunately for your dreams, such a world doesn't exist."

"Don't you dare—"

"Oh, but I do dare." He continued, ignoring her words. "You humans are the cause of your own suffering. Perhaps you shouldn't be surprised that a_ 'monster'_ understood your flaws in the first place. To think I was just like your kind, weak and foolish minded to believe there was hope."

_Human...?_

_He was human...?_

She didn't want to believe the monster was once human.

"But you're perfect?" She retorted. "Even monsters like you have flaws and you said you were human before. You said…I reminded you of someone. Someone took her away and now you're taking it out on innocent people—"

"Don't pretend that you know about me as I know about you." Her words struck a nerve. "As much as you amuse me, I won't take kindly to a human overstepping their bounds in my presence. After all, you do have a brother. Imagine the things I can do to him…"

"Stay…away from him—"

Her threat fell on deaf ears. "I don't need to be near my prey to toy with them. Perhaps he's as tortured as you are. I can always pry into his thoughts and twist them until he breaks."

"You do anything to my brother..."

"And what will you do to stop me? Such brave words for my poor hapless victim."

She didn't respond.

He took advantage of her trepidation just as before. Her words meant nothing to him.

The glass was soon empty; the monster finishing the blood like wine. "I suggest that you eat. I have little need to poison your food, if that's what you are afraid of."

"You're unpredictable…" She found her voice once more. "I don't know what you'll do to me. I would rather starve—"

"Or you can become a living corpse." The glass was tossed aside, landing on the black marble. The reverberation of shattered glass resonated in the room. "I can always turn you, and blood will be your only nourishment. Then you can perish if you refuse to nourish yourself. It doesn't matter either way."

"You would want that…wouldn't you?" She replied. "To see me suffer...?"

"Why would you not want to experience power for yourself?" He leered. "Maybe for once, your life could have meaning. You may even pursue your lifelong dream of peace. Isn't that what you always wanted?"

He was mocking her again.

Her eyes wandered to the plate.

She would rather die than become a monster like him.

* * *

**. . . . .**

* * *

"Who the hell are you?"

He didn't know how an uninvited guest got in his office.

The man sat cross legged; the rustic leather of the chair creaking underneath his weight. His smile was unwavering, even under the glare that was given.

_He didn't look like a reporter, not by a long shot. _

After the press conference, he wasn't in the mood to see anyone unless it was one of his men with a possible lead on a John Doe or Claire. Convincing Piers to ignore Donovan when he couldn't ignore the man's jabs at his department was difficult.

"_He doesn't know shit about what we're going through captain."_

"_Stand down Piers—"_

"_You're really going to let him shit talk the guys like that—"_

"_I said stand down Piers."_

"_But sir—"_

"_Listen, it doesn't matter what he says. It doesn't change anything that we're doing now. I want to punch the shit out of the guy as much as the next person but the last thing we need is the media breathing down our necks for this. We have enough to worry about, with my sister missing and unsolved murders. Stay away from him."_

It was rare for him to reprimand Piers. He followed orders, even ones he was against.

But Donovan was a different story.

He only hoped Piers listened to him.

"Christopher Redfield of the _IPD_, I presume?" The man responded in a soft, cold tone that was anything but normal.

The man was already giving him the creeps.

"No one calls me that." His eyes narrowed. "You better have a damn good reason why you're in my office and my men didn't stop you in the first place."

"Of course, where are my manners." The man rose, towering over him by a good five inches. Slick brown hair emphasized his sharp, intricate features, reminding him of a pretty boy model in the local firefighters magazine. He wore a dark turtleneck and slacks; his cologne permeating the air around them.

His _guest_ reeked of money and corporate bullshit, compared to his simple white shirt with rolled up sleeves, a hanging navy blue tie and dark slacks.

In other words, he was comparable to shit and didn't hold a candle to the man in front of him.

"My name is…Alex." A pale hand extended towards him, but he didn't take it.

_He looks like the walking fucking dead. Never seen anyone this damn pale in my_ _life._

"Well Alex, in case you haven't noticed, we're busy around here." He ignored the hand and walked away, until he reached the large, black office chair in front of his desk and sat down. "The press conference is over and there's nothing more to say—"

"But you're mistaken Mr…" Alex turned around and sat back in his chair, until they were facing each other again across the desk.

"Try Redfield. I don't know which part of the country you're from but no one calls me Christopher."

"Redfield. Again, my apologies. I will remember that gesture in the future—"

"What do you want?" He didn't have time for pleasantries.

Her. words did nothing to rattle the man's unwavering politeness.

"I understand that you're quite stressed with the recent events. As the chief of police, this must be troubling. However, my company represents the families of these poor, unfortunate victims. I believe it would be wise to simply focus on…Ms. Claire Redfield's safe return instead—"

"Who the hell are you that I should drop investigations?" He demanded. "Those families would want to see some form of justice. I will do everything in my power to ensure that. And my sister's wellbeing is none of your goddamn business. I will find her one way or another. Tell your company to shove it or they'll be next on the agenda—"

"Your threats are noted, however I would tread carefully Mr. Redfield." Alex rose from his seat, oblivious to his anger. "My company doesn't take kindly to meddling in affairs, especially when most of these victims worked for us."

"You don't have the authority to tell us how to do our jobs."

_Who the hell does this man think he is?_

He was familiar with the company the victims worked for. It was only known as _Corporation S_, based on their financial records. Not even their families knew much about it, aside from the thousands of dollars they earned.

But that wasn't their focus.

"Perhaps I don't." He was greeted with another frigid smirk. "However, I am only looking out for the interests of the families of our former employees. Do keep that in mind…Mr. Redfield, after all family is important, is it not?"

"I don't know what twisted shit you're trying to pull..." He soon rose from his chair, his temper flaring. "...but I would keep your _Corporation S_ in check. You might just receive an unexpected visit one of these days."

"Of course..." Alex chuckled. "...and you're more than welcome to investigate us. But I believe you won't find much, aside from hard working men and women."

The man was gone before he had a chance to retort.

He gritted his teeth.

_I'll be the judge of that..._

* * *

**Author Notes**

* * *

Im very sorry for the late updates. I was sick for some time and my grandmother was sick and had to be taken to the hospital. Everything is fine now so don't worry. I've also been busy because I have a second job now. I'm also looking for a new full-time job. But the updates are coming! The chapters will get longer in this story so stay tuned for that as well!


	6. Chapter Five

**Italics**: Flashback, Thoughts

* * *

**Chapter Five**

* * *

_"I spared your kind…"_

_The church was engulfed in flames._

_It was a monumental structure of polished wood and beautiful stained glass, depicting the crucifixion and other pivotal points in biblical history. Lilia Redfield was religious and would take her and Chris to church whenever she could. Charles Redfield didn't believe that someone willingly allowed themselves to be pinned on a cross to save mankind. _

_He believed that everything had a scientific explanation. He was a man of science, developing new technological advances for the good of mankind._

_After they died, she and Chris stopped going._

_She didn't know why she was standing in the middle of the crumbling structure. _

_The voice was recognizable to her, belonging to the monster who kidnapped her. He wasn't clad in the muscle shirt and slacks he stole from the house they were in. He wore a long tattered cape and black armor with an intricate pattern. Lines overlapped and intertwined, forming something she had never seen before._

_Long, sharp pauldrons jutted from his shoulders. A crimson diamond jewel was encased in the middle of his chest. _

_His deathly appearance and russet-gold hair was illuminated by the flames surrounding the area. The fire was spreading rapidly, reaching the windows in seconds. _

_She could only watch as he took deliberate steps down from the altar. There was a priest at the bottom, kneeling on the floor, his eyes wide with terror. He backed away as quickly as his body allowed, muttering prayers and clutching a string of crucifix prayer beads. _

_Crimson eyes bore into his frightened ones, oblivious to the destruction before him._

"…_only because she begged me to do it. Yet you murdered her in cold blood because you believed she was a witch?"_

_It didn't take her long to realize it was the same elderly priest she saw in her previous nightmare. He was clad in the same white and crimson robes, singed from the flames. _

_She was invisible to them, standing inches away from the scene unfolding before her. _

_**What…is this…?**_

_The wrath behind each word filled her with dread; a reminder of what the monster did to her when she dared to call the victim he killed hours ago innocent. To him, dhe was only an inconvenience._

"_God…help me…" The priest whispered. "…please help me Lord…I beg of you… !"_

"_God won't save you...father…" The monster drew nearer, a sinister grin forming. "…you are, after all long due for a permanent trip to hell. They will have fun with you. I will see to it...personally."_

"…_stay away from me…Satan!" The priest cried out. "…. Vladislaus Dracul…!"_

_The priest received a chilling laugh in return. "How amusing for you to call me by my name at the time of your demise. You will remember it well, won't you? It will be the last thing you will utter in this life."_

_The monster descended on the priest within seconds, as if he teleported. A clawed, armored hand shot through his chest; the other wrapped around his throat as he was lifted from the floor. Entrails were ripped out, __leaving behind pools of blood. They filled the cracks of the white marbled floor._

_The priest's horrid screams was the last thing she heard before darkness enveloped her once more._

* * *

**. . . . .**

* * *

Mrs. Collin's lifeless corpse stared back at him.

In the kitchen, her now widowed husband sobbed as he recalled his whereabouts. He was an architect, with several years under his belt. He was employed at _Techmo_—a landscaping company that was well known in the city. His deceased wife was a medical assistant at a local doctoral practice.

She was on a brief vacation; recovering from the flu.

The thought of _Sierra Collins _sprawled out in the middle of the hallway with two puncture wounds in her neck and drained of blood sickened him.

She didn't have her wrists slit like the other victims they found.

Someone bit into her neck and fed on her like a fucking animal.

He couldn't get the word_ 'vampire' _from his mind.

_What the hell is going on here…?_

What remained of her blood still drenched the gray marbled floor. Horrified neighbors were sealed away with yellow tape. Based on their testimony, the _Collins_ was a happy couple; married for seven years now. There were no visible bruises on the woman's body to suggest otherwise.

_Derek Collins _was the one to call immediately, the minute he arrived after picking up his twin daughters from an after school program. His voice shook, reeking of trauma and confusion. Nothing suggested that he knew anything about the crime scene. He didn't seem like he had enemies willing to murder his wife.

Mrs. Collins was well known at their children's school and participated in fundraisers. She was noted for her hard work and dedication. From the information they knew, the family was a honest, middle-class family.

Just who or what the hell were they going after?

The scene reminded him of a vampire in cheesy horror flicks he used to watch with Claire when they were younger.

That was the disturbing part.

_Vampires weren't real._

He knew that as well as any sane person out there.

Nothing was stolen from the house, except a single outfit. Money, jewels and other expenses were still intact. The daughters stayed with a neighbor for the time being, but then again it was already too late to shield them from the crime scene.

They already knew their mother was dead.

He never forgot the screams that shook the younger one. The older one was just as shaken, demanding to know what happened. Mr. Collins did his best to console them, but it did nothing.

Plans were already being made for counseling as well as a vigil for Mrs. Collins at the school.

He didn't know about additional funeral plans. The husband mentioned family in France but didn't specify when he would contact them.

He didn't think he ever saw a grown man in tears before.

_"I loved her..."_ Mr. Collins sputtered when Piers questioned him. _"...Who...or what the fuck could have done this...? It couldn't have been an animal...right? There would have been evidence...I mean you guys are experts..."_

This murder was beyond their expertise.

There was no forceable entry, which made things even worse. This was just another senseless victim caught in a bizarre killing spree plaguing the city for months.

"Jesus…"

Piers was by his side, visibly shaken.

He couldn't blame him.

Some of his uniformed officers puked out on the sidewalk for a good few minutes. It wasn't that they were new to the force or this field of work.

The murders was enough to place everyone on edge. This latest one was straight out of a horror freak show.

"…what or who…the hell could have done this…?"

"…I don't know." He allowed the white sheet to fall on Mrs. Collin's face. With a nod, he gave permission to the paramedics waiting to take her away. "Whatever's happening in this city…it's getting worse."

"We just gave that asshole Donovan more ammunition." Piers spat. "Now he's going to say that we can't even stop a woman from getting killed in her own home. Recovering from the flu, only to be murdered in the middle of the hallway. Reminds me of a fucking vampire—"

"Vampires aren't real." He interrupted, cutting Piers off. "Let's not get carried away here."

Piers shook his head. "I know but…this shit is crazy, even for us. Hell, that guy that found his way in your office is creepy enough. If I knew he got in like that, I would have stopped him."

"It wasn't your fault." Piers always had a habit of blaming himself for things beyond his control. "You were in the bathroom and the guys, from what I remember was too busy to notice him. He's from _Corporation S_."

"_Corporation S_?" Piers echoed. "That's the company our victims worked at. It's suspicious that they popped up in all our investigations. Why didn't we investigate them in the first place?"

"Because we didn't have anything on them." He said. "But I'm growing suspicious of their motives. Of all the funerals for these women, I doubt they had any form of empathy towards the families. We better be on our guard, just in case."

"So…what are we doing now?"

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "We just keep an eye on them. My sister is a high priority at this point, as well as _Mrs. Collin's_ murder. But I do want an investigation on this…Alex. Find out what you can about him. I have a feeling that we may have a possible suspect on our hands."

* * *

**. . . . .**

* * *

"You…you're placing those memories in my head."

_She didn't remember returning to the room. _

_She didn't remember eating._

_She only remembered their conversation in the dining hall._

_She remembered him taunting her._

It was midnight, based on the clock on the dresser.

_How long had she been out…?_

The nightmare-like memory was still fresh within her conscience.

She was in the bed, cowering near the headboard. He was sitting in an armchair in the farthest corner of the room, watching her with curiosity. His leg was crossed over the other, with two fingers propped under his chin.

"Oh?" He mused. "And what makes you think I had anything to do with your fainting spells, human?"

"You can't trick...me. I know who…and what you are. You placed that memory of you. The priest...the woman..."

She didn't want to believe the sequence of events in the nightmare-like state she was in. It was the second time she encountered strange memories that weren't her own.

He was doing something to her.

Either she found a way to escape or allow him to castrate her mind until she became his latest victim.

"So who am I? I'm very curious to know."

"You're the devil." She spat. "Someone or something released you. That's why you ended up in the hospital where I worked. If you think I'll let you do anything to hurt me or anyone I care about—"

She couldn't finish the words. They were lodged in her throat, as if someone was choking her.

But the monster didn't move from his position.

His eyes only narrowed in disapproval. "How many times do I have to remind you that your threats are insignificant to me? And yet you continue to try my patience. Why is that?"

She clawed at her throat, croaking for air. Minutes passed, before air resurfaced.

"What did you see?" He continued with his taunts.

"I don't know what your intentions are...but I won't—"

"Playing the brave little role again, I see." He mused. "Perhaps I am this devil you talk about. I've been known by many names. As for those who released me, I will know who they are eventually, once I return to full capacity. Its unfortunate how I don't remember returning to this world."

She gasped, exploding to a coughing, sputtering fit.

"Either way, you amuse me the more we spend time together. It's almost endearing." He tapped the armrest with his other hand; his fingers rapping against the fabric.

"There's nothing…endearing about what you're doing...to me…" She croaked. "This is…all a sick, twisted game…to you. I cant do anything to stop...anything thats happening to me..."

"That's because you made our little encounter a game. Empty threats, struggling to remain so brave when deep down inside, you're just a frightened young woman. Why wouldn't I find it amusing?"

"I'm…a human being you…bas…tard. I'm not your sick…plaything—"

The monster chuckled. "You should be careful with that sharp tongue. It may very well get you in trouble yet again."

"Go fuck...yourself—"

The choking sensation returned.

"I may just enjoy myself a little too much with you if you continue to use that vulgar language."

He uncrossed his leg, rising from the chair but not before releasing her again.

She gasped, grabbing her neck. She pressed against the headboard as if it was a weapon. He approached the foot of the bed with the usual sickening grin she had grown to hate since he held her captive.

"I will give you some privacy. But make no mistake, I will know if you try anything foolish."

* * *

**Author Notes**

* * *

I am a really bad person, leaving that cliffhanger behind. But the next chapter will be much longer and on top of that, we learn more about _Corporation S_. Keep in mind also that Alex isn't really who he is. You'll definitely find out later.

Did some editing work on the other chapters here and there.


	7. Chapter Six

**Italics: **Thoughts

* * *

**Chapter Six**

* * *

_"...We have a situation on our hands. "_

"…_I heard the news. It seems that the cult migrated to America and resurrected him there."  
_

"_Yes._ _Several American women have been murdered so far. At first, we thought it was a serial killer, but patterns are beginning to form. They're all virgins, and strangely worked for an organization known as Corporation S. We can't allow the monster to gain strength, otherwise we won't be able to stop him from taking over this century."_

"_When do I leave?"_

"_Tonight. You will be accompanied."_

"_I don't need a partner for a goddamn investigation—"_

"_You don't have a choice. This came directly from The Order. And you shouldn't underestimate the threat we're faced with. Our ancestors didn't treat the monster as a joke. We are entrusting you with the fate of humanity and keeping you in check is a top priority."_

* * *

**. . . . .**

* * *

He never wanted to be a hunter.

It was another shit storm he was dragged into.

It was a responsibility he struggled to avoid, but his father left behind a legacy that couldn't be ignored. He was one of the hunters in _The Order_— an organization that specialized in killing vampires and supernatural forces that remained hidden within the shadows. After his father's death, it was said that his heir would inherit the training needed to keep the forces of darkness at bay.

He had anything but a normal life.

His mother worked for the _Intelligence Department _and was still alive, giving him her blessings before he left. She tried to raise him as an American kid with friends, but it never panned out. The _Coen_ family line never had a chance at a normal '_anything'_. The only normal thing they shared was a dinner celebrating his dad's birthday, but even then they had to be on their toes.

His mother warned him about a dreaded prophecy, where the king of darkness was set to resurrect in the modern world, and would bring with him the armies of hell.

He didn't believe her.

To him, everything was just some hocus-pocus bullshit.

That was until he read about the murders and the John Doe in a hospital in Illinois, followed by a missing nurse.

"It wasn't my idea to come with you."

His thoughts were interrupted by the woman emerging from the bathroom from her steam bath. White towels adorned her head and waist, covering her breasts. He would have been an idiot to deny that she was attractive. Her name was Ingrid Hunnigan, and it wasn't the first time he encountered her at headquarters. She was a member of the Intelligence Department, but knew her way around weapons and firearms.

He didn't know anything else about her, except that she was formidable on the field.

_The Order_ chose well.

They were back in the United States, from England. The hotel they were staying in was meant to be a safe house, with boarded windows, cheap furniture and two small areas that led to the bedroom and kitchen. For now, they were situated in Washington D.C, but would soon be on the move to Illinois, where the source of the killings were taking place.

Already, a terrible feeling nagged the pit of his stomach.

He was beginning to regret not listening to his mother.

They listened to news reports of unusual weather for the past few days. Darkened skies and frequent thunderstorms plagued each state. Fear plagued law enforcement agencies—they were afraid that copycat murders would surface in their respective states. Fear also gripped the public—people were afraid of leaving their homes.

Fear and panic was like food for the evil lurking in the underworld.

The demons of hell fed on it for nourishment below. _The Order's_ job was to keep the balance, for the sake of humanity. When the balance shifted, it led to the end of the world.

"I prefer books, where I can help from the sidelines. But if it's true about the prophecy, then you'll definitely need my help and we need to be prepared."

"I don't need a reminder." His focus remained glued on the thirty-two inch flat screen monitor inches away from the coffee table separating the brown leather sofa that freaked under his weight whenever he shifted. "They said you were the best. The Order doesn't trust me enough to investigate the Illinois situation on my own so they had to send me to the states with a babysitter—"

"I'm not your babysitter Coen." At the corner of his eye, he noticed her glare but he didn't care. "Or should I call you Billy instead?"

He snorted. "What the fuck is that supposed to mean?"

"It means that I'm offering you a choice to either have me call you Coen or Billy. Like it or not, I'm your partner. This mission is too dangerous for one person to handle alone. You don't have enough experience in the field."

"Right." He chose to ignore her response. "So what do we know about this chief of police and his missing sister aside from the garbage on the local news? Seems like they're just focused on bashing a clueless department with no idea what they're up against."

"His sister disappeared the minute the John Doe was brought in the hospital she worked in." Hunnigan said, filling him in. "Her friend—Jill Valentine was supposed to pick her up from work but no one saw the woman. Aside from that, not much else until we pry her brother for more information."

"Redfield, right?"

"Yes."

"What do we know about _Corporation S_? Aside from that boring meeting with Nevin?"

"Not much, though _The Order_ suspects it may have something to do with the prophecy."

He didn't need another briefing.

He already knew what it was.

"Then I guess we have a lot of work to do." He reached for the pack of Marlboro and the silver lighter on the table. It was engraved with the symbol of The Order, two lions on their hind legs with the United Kingdom flag between them.

Hunnigan nodded.

"It appears that we do. Cooperate with me and I'll cooperate with you. Our goal is to protect the world from evil. Don't forget that."

* * *

**. . . . . **

* * *

_She was choking him._

_It was impossible, let alone inhuman. He dangled inches from the floor in her grasp, prying at her cold fingers. She was pale, her lips curled back into a snarl. Two long, sharp teeth protruded from both sides of her lips._

_Canines. _

_They were fucking canines. _

_This wasn't Claire Redfield. _

_This wasn't his sister he knew. _

_And yet the woman looked like her. _

_They were in the middle of the prescient. Several dead officers were scattered around them, in riot gear. _

_She killed all of them. _

_Shell casings were spent, coming from the assault rifles his men used. They were ineffective against her. She tore them to shreds, leaving behind pools of blood and what remained of their entrails. Even now, she was covered in their remains, oblivious to the blood that matted her face and hair. _

_"…Claire…don't…" He struggled for air. "..this isn't…you. S-stop…"_

_"You wouldn't let me go." She sneered, cutting him off. "I warned you, but you couldn't just accept that I was gone. You can't even accept that you're not a hero. It's over Chris."_

* * *

**. . . . .**

* * *

He lurched from the couch, drenched in sweat. A scream threatened to leave his lips, but never came.

_What…what the fuck was that…?_

It was rare for him to have nightmares, not since mom and dad died. That was years ago, where he was struggling with everything, from taking care of Claire to holding down a job.

That was when he joined the police force, fighting his way up to the position he held now.

His heart pounded to the point it reverberated in his ears. Darkness enveloped the room, with the exception of the street light outside the window. Thunder rumbled, as rain continued to pour.

It had been a week of terrible weather.

The weathermen and women were baffled and the government didn't have an explanation for the string of thunderstorms that plagued the country. It wasn't normal somber clouds all of them were used to seeing; the sky had taken a coal undertone that was much closer to apocalyptic settings than a normal rainy day.

And it started when the women were murdered.

He rubbed his face, struggling to shake the dread that washed over him.

It was just a nightmare.

He didn't know how long he had been asleep, let alone the time he reached his apartment. After a video conference call with the mayor, he found himself leaving the office for the night.

_"You look like shit Chief Redfield. I want more than anything for your sister to be found and the person responsible for these murders be brought to justice, but nothing will get done if you end up with a mental breakdown. For your sake and the sake of your men, get some rest. That's an order. The same goes for your department. Is that clear?"_

_"…Yes sir."_ He was reluctant to follow Mayor Derrick's request, but at the same time he was burnt out. They didn't have any leads and watching _Corporation S_ wasn't a top priority. It was only a precautionary measure, based on the man that found his way inside his office.

_Alex._

They knew nothing about him, other than the fact that he was an orphan. Ada Wong, the president of _Corporation S _took him under her wing as her second in command. He was the one who reached out to the families, playing the_ 'sympathy'_ card.

There was nothing sentimental about the man, from what he noticed. Everything else was shrouded in mystery—one of which he intended to uncover.

The generic ring of his _Samsung_ phone vibrated against the coffee table on the left side of the couch armrest.

He reached over and grabbed the device.

It was three-thirty in the morning.

Three days passed since the press conference and the strange visit. It didn't take him long to realize the phone call was from Piers.

"…What is it?" He asked, after answering on the third ring.

_"…We found her cell phone."_ The response was enough to bring him to his feet.

"Where…?" He began pacing, running a hand through his hair. He was no stranger to falling asleep in his work clothes. "…what about her bag?"

_"Her bag was found too. Sanitation workers found it and called us. We found an identification card so its definitely hers. The phone screen is shattered and the battery's dead but we'll get the tech guys downstairs working on it in no time."_

"Good. I'm on my way."

_"…Chief, are you alright? Your voice sounds shaky. I mean, the boys and I can take care of it if you need some time—"_

He hesitated.

As much as he convinced himself that whatever he dreamed was a stupid nightmare, it never left his conscience. Piers was good on picking up on when something was wrong. It would sound absolutely ridiculous if he started babbling about dreaming that his sister was a fucking vampire and she killed the entire prescient.

_Vampires weren't real._

He told Piers they were stories designed for horror fanatics.

_'So what happened to Mrs. Collins?' A voice interrupted his thoughts. 'A human couldn't have possibly done that…'_

_'It was probably a wild animal—'_

_'You don't really believe that, do you? A wild animal would have left scratches and destruction. The house wasn't even touched.'_

"_Chief…?"_

"…I'm fine. " He lied. "I'll be there soon."

_"Are you sure—"_

"Detective Piers, when I need a fucking nanny, I'll let you know." He snapped, but realized that he was wrong. His tone eventually softened. "…Listen, I'm sorry. That was completely out of line and I should have known better. I'll be there. Don't worry about me."

_Liar…you're fucking liar. The least you could do is be honest with your top detective. _

He ignored the voice, shaking his head. Staying in control of his emotions was the best thing to do in a time like this. He didn't need sympathy or someone on top of him.

It made him look weak.

Claire would have wanted him to remain vigilant.

"_Okay...if you're sure. Listen chief, I don't want to feel like I'm overstepping my place but if you're—"_

"I said its nothing Piers. I'll get there as soon as I can."

Fingernails dug into the palm of his hand, the other gripping the cell phone as soon as he ended the call.

_I'll do whatever it takes to find you._

* * *

**. . . . .**

* * *

It was a mistake to think glass could be used as a stake to incinerate him.

The sharp blow from the back of his hand sent her careening against the wall.

Blood spewed from her mouth as she slid down.

It was nearly a week since she was in the hotel under his control. She learned about the reports through the television set in the room. The monster was amused by the mention of the various dead women as well as her disappearance. He was unconcerned that Chris was looking for her and even mused at him being the chief of police.

Seeing Chris on the screen was enough to force a choked sob from her lips.

The monster didn't care.

He reveled in her torment.

And now, she was stupid enough to attack him when she knew nothing about killing vampires in the first place.

She didn't know how she was able to sleep with him lurking in the hotel itself. Yet somehow, she managed a few hours, only to wake up suddenly, afraid that he would murder her in her sleep.

Of all the threats he made to her life, he was still keeping her alive.

_Why?_

He found out about the time period on his own. She only supplied him with some information during their_ 'talks'. _He learned about the technological advancement of telephones and the clothes worn in this century. He sent some of the brainwashed staff to shop for clothing suitable for him, citing that if she _'behaved'_, he would get something for her too. _  
_

They emptied their own bank accounts to suit his needs, unaware that they were prolonging their suffering.

Even now, he wore a sleek black suit with a matching shirt that was unbuttoned to expose his neck and chest.

As_ 'promised'_, he granted her some form of privacy and even offered to have her breakfast and dinner brought to the room if she felt uncomfortable in the dining room. Their _talks_ in the bedroom ranged from him laughing at her retorts, to reminding her that he could easily torture her in every way imaginable.

At one point, she dared to call him by the name the priest called him in the nightmare, only for him to retaliate, pinning her to the wall by her throat.

She could only watch, as he gazed at the shard of cabinet glass wedged through his left hand with curiosity. Blood poured from the wound, however it wasn't crimson red.

It was a tar-like substance, unnatural and solidifying his inhumanity.

"And to think you were such an avid watcher of these movies on your television sets." He said, feigning disappointment. "Did you really think embedding my hand with glass would stop me? Arrogance will lead to your demise, human."

He ripped the glass out with little effort. The blood continued to pour, until the wound began healing on its own.

There was no indication of it ever being there.

"…It was meant…for your…fucking heart…you bastard—" She gasped. Each laborious breath sent painful ripples through her body. "Next time…I won't…miss—"

She never finished the last sentence.

He descended on her; his vice grip on strands of hair. He lifted her off the floor, until she was pinned against the wall. She used everything in her to fight, but every struggle inflicted agonizing pain.

"But you _will_ miss, every time." Every syllable ended with a venomous hiss, oblivious to her screams. "Since you enjoy playing with glass so much, then perhaps you should see how it feels imbedded in your weak flesh. The remains of my blood on this glass can either poison your blood or end your humanity. Should we can test that theory right now?"

"…No!" She thrashed against his grip, prying at his cold fingers. "…Don't…do…it—"

The shard of glass descended, but none of her hands were never grabbed. It was embedded in the wall, near her head. Her relief was only temporary, as he leaned towards her lips.

"…or I can have fun tasting the blood around your mouth—"

"…Get the fuck away…from me...!"

Her warning was ignored. The frigid chill of his tongue lapped the blood from her chin and corners of her lips. Every form of struggle only tightened his grip around her hair.

"Stop...let go...of me...!"

A soft hum reverberated, as he licked his lips.

"You tasted better than I expected." She no longer felt his tongue on her skin, but his grip never loosened from her hair. "If your defiance continues, I won't be able to restrain myself."

She tried spitting in his face, but the spittle never came. The only thing she tasted was the copper taste of what remained of her blood lodged in her throat.

She only received a malevolent smirk for her failed attempt.

"Clean yourself up." It was a simple command. "Consider yourself fortunate to still be alive."

He dropped her to the floor.

She dragged herself towards the bathroom, tainted with humiliation and defeat. It took everything in her to force the bile that soon followed down her throat.

It didn't matter what he did to her.

She refused to surrender to him.

* * *

**Author Notes**

* * *

So, another chapter down! This was a pretty creepy chapter to write, even for me. The ideas keep flowing so it was also interesting to write too. As you can see, Chris's nightmare is definitely a premonition and Billy with Hunnigan is new to me. I've also been doing some editing here and there with my stories as well.

I would also like to welcome my friend Rainfox, who is a new reader of this crazy dream story!


	8. Chapter Seven

**Italics:** Thoughts

* * *

**Chapter Seven**

* * *

The meeting with _Sanford_ went well, as she expected.

_Corporation S _was under the guise of an environmental organization with the 'intentions' of warning humans of the everyday dangers they faced with global warming. _Sanford_ was one of their rival organizations that wanted to strike a deal and join forces. The thought entertained her, considering that they knew nothing about what they were getting into.

The CEO—Harrison was a man she could easily wrap around her fingers. He was young, ambitious and to a certain degree, cocky. He took over the organization after his father passed from a mysterious illness. It was in various news reports around the world. The old man left everything to the little pup, trusting that he wouldn't run the company to the ground.

It was amusing watching him trying to strike a deal with her.

To a degree, it was comical to see a young man with little experience trying to use_ 'grown words'_ in the name of his father's legacy.

He certainly had his good looks—short layers of brown hair, dark eyes that reeked of inexperience, and a gray suit to match with a blue silk tie and expensive black shoes. The kid smelled like he had already spent half of his father's fortune.

She was anticipating the organization's demise soon, allowing _Corporation S_ to add to their collective.

All of this was for her master.

She was only safeguarding everything like a faithful servant until he was found.

They knew he was still in the state of Illinois, however his power was only growing, preventing them from using even the most powerful of dark magic in their arsenal to locate him.

It was a barrier that was unseen and impenetrable.

Alex, however had the necessary power to break through.

She was sure of it.

The man arrived at her doorstep, with claims that he knew of her corporation and the plans to resurrect the dark lord. He would have been killed on the spot, if it wasn't for the dark magic that emulated from his fingertips the minute her men laid hands on him. She knew nothing of his past except that he was an orphan. There were no dates or events that were tied to him, despite her best efforts of research.

All she knew was that he was a dangerous necromancer with means of fulfilling her desires.

"Your meeting with that brat went well, it seems." A voice mused behind her by the window of her office.

She jumped at the sound; her mind too preoccupied with the computer in front of her to notice the black, crimson-like void that appeared, allowing the man to enter in. It wasn't the first time she learned of his teleporting capabilities. He had his moments of arriving when it suited him.

He donned a charcoal gray turtleneck, and black slacks and shoes of the same intricate color. As usual, his hair was slicked to perfection; his complexion as pale as death itself. His hands were in his pockets, observing the somber weather that marred Illinois and the entire world.

It was only a matter of time before governments around the world declared the unusual weather a state of emergency.

"A pity that he knows very little of what it takes to run an organization. His father's company will go under and we reap the rewards."

"Maybe it will." She said, agreeing with him. "But as much as I enjoy you telling me the inevitable, I would appreciate it if you announced your arrival instead of just showing up."

Alex chuckled. "Of course, where are my manners." At the corner of her eye, she watched as he turned away from the window and made his way towards the leather chairs in front of the glass desk.

The office consisted of off-white walls and black furniture. The marble floor was reminiscent of the same decorum, just as she envisioned it when the _Corporation S _building was created. Her office was designed in a way it didn't arouse suspicion. The books against the wall was only a safety mechanism for the books of the occult that were hidden away. The workers knew nothing about her office on the thirtieth floor, unless it was a rare occasion they were escorted. There were rumors of the _'mysterious CEO',_ but she ignored them.

Her goals and ambitions were more important than pointless gossip.

"It seems like you had your fun with Chief Redfield." Her fingers rapped against the desk. "His men are on a wild goose chase for his sister. Their focus is wavering from the murders and our corporation. Perhaps i should thank you for that."

"I suspect that the master has the girl." Her fingers stopped, the minute Alex responded. "The news reports do seem to indicate that _John Doe _was taken to _Evergreen Hospital. _The Redfield girl works there. The master went on a murderous rampage the minute he was revived. He disappeared, eluding our magic. It wouldn't be far from reality if he was _John Doe_."

He smirked. "The paramedics must have had a rather difficult time moving him."

"The officers were killed in an unnatural way..."

"Which makes my deduction theoretically possible, don't you think?"

"I don't like the idea of you toying with Chris Redfield." She said.

"You worry too much. Either way I have my doubts that he will heed my little warning despite our encounter. He will need more convincing, it seems." Alex chuckled.

"Why would the master take this girl?" She demanded, changing the subject. "What use could he have for her?"

Alex sat down, crossing a leg over the other. "Perhaps she was at the wrong place the wrong time. Either way, the master will most likely kill her before we locate him. I don't see him developing _'feelings' _for this random hospital worker."

"I don't care." Her voice was cold, enraged by his possible deduction as she continued typing. "I won't have this Redfield bitch getting in the way of my ambitions. If she's still alive when the master is found, we will kill her off immediately."

"Of course." His smirk only widened. "I promised to help realize your ambitions, didn't I? Why would we allow a nobody to get in the way of that?"

* * *

**. . . . . **

* * *

The ghost-like image of the man was disturbing.

He wanted to believe that his ashen skin and crimson eyes was a trick from the lighting from the flash on Claire's phone, but technological expect _Wendy Sharp _assured him it wasn't.

How the fuck was he supposed to believe that a human being could have that kind of complexion and eyes?

Sharp's colleagues were able to render something that supposedly resembled a human being. The result sent him in a tailspin; recalling the description of _John Doe_ from the hospital he was in.

Somehow, the man resembled _John Doe_.

Claire's phone was shattered; the screen cracked in several places. The only thing they retrieved was the distorted image and a call from Jill the same night she disappeared. Everything else were calls dating from months before the murders, either pertaining to him, Rebecca, Jill or her coworkers.

Sharp's division was labeled **DOTC**, which was also known as the _Department of Technological Crimes_.They were charged with the task of cracking cell phones of criminals willing to shatter their phones in hopes of damaging any incriminating exchanges between them and other partners in unlawful activities.

Claire's disappearance was considered a crime, so it made sense for them to search her phone.

They were located on the bottom floor, complete with all the state of the art technology they needed to do their jobs efficiently. At least three flat screens were spaced in the middle of the room. Mahogany wood bench tables were filed with files, cell phone parts that were cracked open, and tools that were associated with them.

The room was expansive, with the mayor fitting the bill. There was a belief that technology was becoming more proficient in cracking down on criminal activities and it was only fair that the IPD stepped up their efforts.

As much as he felt in the beginning that it was an insult to the hard working men and women in the IPD, he was now grateful now that this division existed.

But the inhuman image was ingrained in his conscience.

The nightmare haunting him this morning wasn't far behind.

"…We can't be sure…that's John Doe..." He found himself muttering under his breath, his gaze wavering on the image. "…are you sure that's not a trick from the light source?"

"It's not." Sharp insisted, giving him an uneasy glance from the rim of her thin brown glasses.

The woman was a dork, but he would never tell her that in person. With short, tomboyish hair that was lighter than her glasses, and dark eyes that held years of experience, she was a valuable asset to the IPD. But now, even she was disturbed by the image, shoving her hands in the pockets of her green jacket.

"It's freaking even me out. It looks like a damn alien trying to figure out what he was holding and dropped the phone at the last second." Sharp sighed. "With everything that's happening—the murders, people being turned away from the _Berwick Hotel_, the string of strange weather activities around the world, this fits right up there with the weirdness—"

"...What?" He was familiar with the hotel Sharp mentioned. Wealthy people stayed there on business or vacation. They were always busy, from the few times he passed by. "People were turned away?"

"Yea, there was this lady on the radio that was saying that she tried to make reservations three times, and was being told that the entire space was being rented out for a special guest."

"When was this?" He demanded.

"I heard about it minutes before you came down here. They wouldn't give her any more details and hung up. She said it sounded like a monotonous tone, like they were reading from a script or something."

"What do you mean reading from a script?" Sharp's words are just as disturbing as the current situation all of them were faced with.

"What, you've never heard of a script before?" Her eyebrow rose. "Seriously Chris?"

"I know what a script is." He said, glaring down at her. She was a short woman, but wasn't afraid of sarcastic quips when it suited her. "It's the way you said it. Can you contact the radio station? I want to know everything about this."

He didn't give Sharp a chance to respond before he turned away and left the room.

* * *

**. . . . . **

* * *

The human brought the suffering on herself.

Perhaps he did go too far.

He saw the purplish bruises that marred her neck and cheek where he slapped her. She was attractive, resembling a slight likeness to the woman taken from him. He was forced to remind himself that she was nothing more than a filthy human he was using for his own amusement.

But even now, he found himself ordering the human workers under his control to take care of her wounds.

_Why? _

She meant _nothing_ to him.

This_ 'Claire'_ chose to be at the wrong place at the wrong time—a saying the humans used. It was ironic using their words, since he was once like them. He fought in their holy wars, defending in the name of the very God most of the humans worshipped.

Then he was betrayed by the order he once served. Before Karina, there was one he loved when he was human—Helena.

She was taken from him as well.

There were many factors that led to his descent into darkness. It was pathetic to see this human deem him a monster when she knew nothing of what he had gone through.

He sneered, seeing her stir from her slumber.

Maybe he should give her a history lesson on his hatred for humanity.

* * *

**. . . . . **

* * *

_What…happened? _

The last thing she remembered was the monster's cold tongue on her skin before he tossed her aside and told her to clean up. She dragged over to the bathroom, slamming the door behind her. Minutes passed before she was in the shower, scrubbing every inch of her body with the soap in the hotel.

Tortured sobs threatened to overwhelm her, as she realized that she was helpless against a being that controlled others and knew everything about her.

Now she was in the bed again, with no recollection of how she got there.

"Perhaps I did go too far with you, human."

The deep, rasped voice was enough to lurch from the pillow. Pain seared her waist and back, but she forced herself to ignore it.

She glared at the monster sitting in the chair, his leg crossed over the other as usual. "What did you do to me…why does this keep happening…?"

"Because you prove to me time and again that you're uncooperative." She loathed the selfish grin he used whenever he spoke to her. "As much as I wanted to revel in your suffering, I chose to have your wounds tended to instead. Again, you should be grateful."

"Grateful for a monster using me as a hostage?" She let out a bitter laugh. "Just kill me and get it over with..."

"I highly doubt you want to die so easily, otherwise you wouldn't have used shattered glass in the bathroom as a makeshift weapon against me."

She hesitated.

The monster wasn't wrong.

She didn't want to die.

"Maybe it's time that you knew the truth behind why I detest your kind." He said, interrupting her thoughts. "Unless you want to continue believing that your kind can do no wrong."

"What difference does it make…?" She found her voice again. "…do you think I'll just sympathize with your story? Nothing justifies what you did to those officers or the woman in that house—"

"They were an inconvenience I chose to get rid of." The venomous tone returned once more. "You don't get to question my decisions, little human. However, you are obligated to listen to my little...biography, as you humans call it."

Again, she was hesitant.

Did she want to hear it?

She was justified for saying it didn't change what he did to the officers or the woman in the house they were in. He saw them as pests rather than innocent bystanders.

How many more would he kill while she remained under his control?

"It depends on what you do to anger me." He said, reading her mind. "Just imagine how many more will suffer for each careless mistake you create on your own. Tonight will be a test to see what you will do to appease me."

His fingers rapped against the leather. "I want to leave this establishment and visit this new little world. You will accompany me, and will be dressed accordingly. Any human you attempt to reach out to will become my latest victim. So I expect you to behave, unless you want their blood to be on your hands as well—"

"You sick f—"

"Should I remind you of the consequences of that tongue of yours?"

"I'm not going anywhere with you—"

He laughed. "You don't have a choice in the matter. You will go where I want you to go. Who knows, you may even enjoy yourself."

"I doubt it."

"But you will, I assure you."

"Don't pretend you know how I feel about anything you're doing to me…"

"But I don't need to pretend." He rose from the chair. She didn't have a chance to react before the monster dragged her from the headboard to the edge of the bed by her legs. She fought, kicking at his face, but he grabbed both of them.

"Let go of me…!" She fought against him, but he was oblivious to her struggles.

"Are you giving me orders?" He mused; his fingers brushing against a bare leg. It was then that she noticed that her pants were missing. She was only clad in the shirt she wore the day before.

Her panic rose, as she was forced to look at him. "Where are my pants...?"

"Oh...a pity you don't remember. You collapsed after your shower. One of our accommodating servants had to throw something on you."

"I don't believe you."

His sharp, attractive features did nothing to quell the consternation she felt whenever he entered the room uninvited.

"I never expected you to believe me. You continue to amuse me, even now."

"I'm not your fucking amusement..."

He laughed again, tracing circles around her skin, oblivious to her jerking away from his touch. His fingers were like ice, burning against her warm skin.

"Continue that bold little defiance. Don't ever give up trying to escape little girl. I do, after all enjoy a good challenge."

* * *

**Author Notes**

* * *

So, I meant to update _Liberator_ before this one but the ideas flowed for this story sooner than I expected.

Thank you so much for the reviews so far—they really mean a lot to me.


	9. Chapter Eight

**Italics: **Thoughts

* * *

**Chapter Eight**

* * *

**.**

Illinois Police Department

6:00 p.m

**.**

* * *

"…Hi."

It was the only greeting she could muster.

The freshly brewed coffee in the Styrofoam warmed her hands; a welcome relief from the unusual chilly weather. She was waiting for Chris in his office, after receiving word from Piers that he was downstairs with the **DOTC**. It was a department she was familiar with, as a district attorney. They helped her put away more career criminals than the **IPD** ever did.

But she wasn't in her office today.

She was forced to take time off because of the emotional stress Claire's disappearance caused. Today, she was wearing a black shirt and jeans with short cut boots underneath her brown raincoat.

As usual, Chris was disheveled, with stubble that hadn't been shaven in days, dark circles under his eyes, and a blue shirt with black slacks. His navy blue tie was loosened around his neck.

He was far from the Chris she knew months ago before the murders brought everything in their life to a grinding halt.

"…Hey." He muttered, and closed the door. He made his way around his desk, brushing her aside.

"How have you…been holding up?" She blurted, without realizing how ridiculous it sounded in the first place.

He gave her an incredulous laugh. "How do you think I'm holding up? My sister's missing, taken away by some pale looking freak and there's still unanswered questions regarding several dead women. That's the last thing I expected to hear from you Jill."

"...You look like hell. It was only fair to ask. " She sighed. "I don't know what else you wanted me to say..."

"I'm aware of what I look like. I don't need you reminding me." He spat, rolling his eyes. "I already get that crap from Piers."

"You're talking about _John Doe_ aren't you?" She questioned, ignoring his quips. "What did you find out about him?"

Chris scoffed. "You do realize that your boss didn't want you near the prescient, let alone this case, right? Since when do you ignore orders?"

Sitting down, she made herself comfortable in his office. "…She was my friend Chris. I deserve to know what's happening with the investigation. This isn't something I can just ignore and go on with my life. I can't pretend everything's okay. Things haven't been the same since the murders or Claire's disappearance. Did _John_ _Doe_ kidnap her?"

Silence lingered between them, until Chris grabbed a manila folder from the heap of files on the desk and handed it to her. "We don't have a solid lead but its possible, based on what we've found so far. What does your department know about _Corporation S_?"

"_Corporation S_?"

The name was familiar to her.

From what her limited knowledge, they were a private pharmaceutical firm. The CEO was Ada Wong, a prominent business woman from Eurasia. She didn't know anything else about the woman or her family.

"Our victims worked there. I had some weirdo—Alex visit me a couple of days ago with a message to let his organization handle the situation. Something about them rubs me the wrong way."

"I only know about the CEO; Ada Wong. A private woman…mostly keeps to herself, I heard. Do you think they have anything to do with what's going on?"

"I don't know." Chris admitted. "Like I said, they rub me the wrong way. Can you do a separate investigation and let me know what you find?"

"You're asking me to go behind my department's back when you were just preaching a minute ago that I shouldn't be here?" Her bitter laugh enveloped the room. "Wow, you're really full of shit."

"Listen, I'm sorry…I haven't been fair. In a way, I did try to blame you for Claire, and it was wrong. For her sake, do this for me. Whatever you need, I'll get it for you."

She didn't expect to hear a confession from him. There was sincerity in his tone, which she didn't expect. It had been weeks since she heard him say anything that was remotely apologetic.

With a sigh, she relented.

"Give me what you have so far."

* * *

**. . . . .**

* * *

Humans were gullible creatures.

For thousands of years, he watched them succumb to seven forbidden sins. Their souls were his for the taking as they passed over from the land of the living. Very few were able to escape his grasp, passing over to the tranquil plane of existence. Of all the disguises he used to gain their trust and learn of their deepest desires, they never ceased to amuse him.

He didn't need to inform Ada Wong that he knew where the master resided. She was as clueless as when he first met her; blinded by ambition and greed.

He watched her as a child growing up.

Ki-min Wong was a prominent woman, marrying into wealth. Min-cho Wong was the CEO of a manufacturing company for the government. Her parents were always busy, never having time for her until their untimely demise during a shootout. From there, Ada took over her father's company and renamed it to _Corporation S_.

She was more interested in pharmaceutical uses than government servitude.

In some ways she looked like her mother, sporting jet black that was always in a bowl cut around her shoulders. In other ways, she was like her father, sporting his eyes and personality. She believed in the survival of the fittest and would trample anyone in her way.

Because of her nativity, he revealed himself to her, leading her down the path to create an occult to resurrect his master. Manipulation went a rather long way; bending human weaknesses to his will. He presented himself as a lowly adviser, only interested in seeing her succeed.

Fabricating his story as an adopted individual was easy as well. A combination of his power and this century's technology wove a convincing story.

In the end, Ada was being used for his purposes.

He sat in the middle of an empty space, meditating on the hard concrete ground. The fortieth floor of the _Corporation S_ building was fortified. All employees were forbidden to access it, unless there was a special request for their audience. It was where the women they need to resurrect the master were quietly slaughtered; their throats slit while they stood in a trance, obeying his every command.

The guards knew nothing about the intentions of the large conference room that was devoid of furniture, thanks to his manipulation. They were only told to guard the room with their very lives.

Ancient, rustic candles were lit, surrounding him and the large pentagram symbol painted in dried blood. Bodies were disposed in various locations to deter the police from connecting the murders back to their organization.

He wasn't surprised that Chris Redfield, was after all trying to make that connection since his little visit. However, he was the master of making things disappear for centuries.

As much as he gave Ada possible information into the master's whereabouts, she didn't know the actual location. The master resided in the _Berwick Hotel_, and was holding the Redfield girl hostage. Already, he was certain she wouldn't last long if she continuously invoked his wrath.

He was able to gain a limited view of their surroundings before the dark magic he conjured ran its course. He sensed the darkness emulating from the building, all of which pleased him.

The master was growing stronger.

Perhaps, it was time to make his presence known.

He laughed; a deep chuckle that reverberated through the hallowed walls.

The poor, insufferable Chris Redfield was about to see how much danger his naïve sister was in.

* * *

**. . . . .**

* * *

"How long are you going to force these people to work for you?"

A frown creased her lips.

She glared at the dark figure sitting across from her in the limousine. At this point, she wondered why they were still under his control. There was a way to get through to them somehow; she was sure of it.

_If she could do something, anything to stop them from becoming new victims…_

"Why do you care so much about them?" He mused, reading her thoughts again. "They don't know you, neither do you know them. Their only purpose is to serve until I grow tired of them."

"They're human beings…" She grounded. Fingernails dug into her palms, threatening to draw blood. "…they're not toys you can play with. I have some fucking compassion…unlike you—"

"Compassion is for the weak…Claire." He leered, much to her unintended surprise. "That is your name…isn't it?"

"You can't just—"

"I can't? What can I not do?" His predatory grin only widened. "Your poor attempts to order me around never ceases to amuse me. Worrying about petty lives you cannot save is a waste of time."

"You don't get to use my name—"

"But you were so adamant about me using it. You should be honored."

He was mocking her.

She was about to respond, but thought better of it.

He forced her to wear a short black dress for the evening, with strapless heels. As much as she pleaded with the staff to snap out of his control, nothing worked. Her struggles only ended with him freezing her in place until everything was finished.

Whatever he did was enough to discourage her resilience.

She never wore makeup until now, concealing the bruises she endured from her stupid mistake.

He was dressed in slacks, a vest, and a white shirt with a tie. A leather overcoat was around his shoulders. She didn't expect him to wear anything other than black. Strands of dark chestnut hair obscured his left eye.

"Why do you want me to know about your life?" She demanded, changing the subject. "It doesn't change what you've done to me."

His gaze locked her in place. "Because you seem to think that I chose to randomly torture humans. In your little naïve mind, you think I'm a monster. You have yet to understand my contempt for your kind."

"…You are..." The words slipped out of her mouth before she could stop them. "…you're holding me against my will and now you expect me to play into your games after nearly killing me. What do you really want…?"

The monster snickered. "Look at you, pretending to be so brave, but your fear betrays you every time. How bold of you to ask what I desire. My greatest desire is to have your kind at my feet, begging for mercy. I want a world of eternal darkness. I want to get aquatinted with this new era before everything comes into play."

"I want nothing to do…with your plans…" She quivered. "…someone will stop you—"

"Believe what you want to believe my little human." He fiddled with a pocket knife the woman in the hotel used to slit her wrist. It was still caked with her blood, much to her chagrin. "Clinging to beliefs will only disappoint you eventually."

"My beliefs—"

"—your beliefs are meaningless." He cut her off with a wave of his hand. The knife was folded and tossed aside. It rolled away, vanishing in the darkness of the limousine. "I was a foolish believer of hope, just like you. I believed that your God would save the woman I loved, but he betrayed me. Then he betrayed me again when I fell in love with another. All I've ever known is betrayal."

"Betrayal…?" She echoed.

"Yes, human. You should know what betrayal is, after all you felt betrayed when poor mother and father died, leaving you all alone with your sibling—"

"You don't know a goddamn thing about my fucking life. Keep my parents out of this—"

"But I do know about your life. Everything has been a downward spiral for you, hasn't it? You're so desperate for hope, that you cling to that imaginary belief that this brother of yours will save you from me. He will die trying, unfortunately. Perhaps I should allow you to call him, just to have a little fun."

Her eyes widened.

It was a trick.

He only wanted to take advantage of Chris' desperation to find her. At the same time, it would cause her to panic and try escaping again, only to suffer more under his control.

_Chris…_

"I know…what you're trying to do…" She croaked, forcing herself to look away.

"…and what exactly am I trying to do?" His mocking smile infuriated her to the point she wanted nothing more than to wipe it from his face.

"You…just want me to call him…just to get your sick thrills. Then you can punish me again for going against you."

It was then that she realized they stopped, indicating a red light. The driver automatically reached over and placed a black cellphone in the monster's outstretched hand.

"You know me so well…" He said, eyeing the phone with feigned admiration. "..you should realize by now that I know about your dreams. The countless times you've spent struggling to find ways to contact your Chris Redfield, the countless hours living in fear of me. Oh, if only we didn't encounter each other in your little hospital, you would be safe and sound with your brother—"

"Fuck you—"

"I can easily break this contraption much faster if you fail to curb that tongue of yours. But of course I expected nothing less from you."

She bit her lip, struggling to contain the humiliation she was forced to endure. "...The police will trace the call. They'll find out where we are—"

"How fun..." He drawled, cutting her off. "…but I highly doubt their ways of_ 'tracing'_ this contraption will overcome the power I wield. But who knows, I may just toy with these '_policemen_' just to see how long they last."

The phone was tossed in her direction. She caught it, nearly dropping it in the process. "You should call your dear brother. Even now, you can't resist. It would be disappointing if you turned down my generous offer."

"This isn't generous..."

"Oh, but it is quite generous. Why do your fingers tremble my little human? Surely you want to contact your brother."

She found herself staring at the phone. It was a _Hauwei_ device, one of the most expensive phones on the market. Various applications stood out on the bright screen, but her eyes wandered to the phone icon.

_Don't give in to him…_

Her fingers shook.

_That's what he wants…_

She found herself conceding, ignoring her conscience.

* * *

**. . . . .**

* * *

His cellphone rang.

Jill was still in the office, giving him bits of information about _Corporation S _and going over the file he had given her. He wasn't sure if the **IPD** had a case, but it was enough to confirm his suspicions about the organization. They were in the office well over an hour; the hand of the grandfather clock against the wall reached eight.

"…Is that Rebecca?" Jill questioned.

He grabbed the phone, staring at the screen. It was an Illinois area code, but it wasn't a number he had seen before. The only ones who had his number was Jill, Rebecca, Piers, the mayor, and Claire.

"Chris—"

He silenced her with a finger, and answered the call on the fourth ring.

"Who is this?" He demanded.

"_Chris…?"_

He froze.

The tone was hoarse, fearful even, but he recognized the voice.

"…Claire…?"

He didn't notice Jill's eyes widen the minute he spoke.

"_Chris…listen to me. You have to stay away. Tell your men to stop looking for me—" _

"Claire, where are you? Who took you? How were you able to call this number—"

_"I don't want anyone else to die. He'll kill anyone who gets close—"_

"Who? Claire, tell me what's going on—"

Her cries pierced his ear, as if the phone was ripped away. The voice was soon replaced with a soft, deep chuckle.

Claire was gone.

"Who the fuck is this?" He shouted on the other end. "Where's my sister—"

"_You must be the great Chris Redfield I keep hearing about." _The voice was unnerving, sending chills down his spine. It held a foreign, accented undertone that was unfamiliar to him_. "I expected more."_

"I won't ask again. Who are you?"

"_You will know soon enough."_

"Give my sister up, or you will be found. I don't take kindly to fucking psychopaths kidnapping innocent people."

His threat was ignored. _"I very much enjoy your little sibling's company. A pity about her foul mouth, but that can always be taken care of." _

"You do anything to her—"

"_Meaningless threats don't concern me. I have no uses for humans and meaningless idle threats." _

_Human…? What the hell is this bastard on…?_

"Our conversation will be traced and I will find you." He warned. "If its money you're after, you won't get it. You'll have to pry it from my cold dead body. You won't get away with this—"

"_I wouldn't mind a little meeting between us." _The voice continued. _"I only allowed your sibling to call because I was amused by your little displays on…what is that contraption called again? Yes, a television."_

"Listen, I don't know what kind of fucking drugs you're on—"

"_Try not to disappoint me, Christopher Redfield."_

The line was dead, taking Claire's screams with it.

* * *

**Author Notes**

* * *

Yes, that was a very mean cliffhanger. I'm doing well, trying to stay as safe as I can. Hopefully life will return back to normal.


End file.
